


More Than Okay

by editingatwork



Series: Any Which Way [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Cuddling, Frottage, Hotel Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Polyamorous relationship, Roadies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10138640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: The inevitable.





	

Jack has never had sex with someone as big as Tater.

Prior to the experience, he gives it about as much thought as he feels it’s due: that is, he entertains the probability that it will happen, and affirms for himself that he isn’t averse to it. But when it finally does happen, it happens unexpectedly, one night in Phoenix.

Three months into their regular season, Jack has gotten very used to snuggling Tater after a game. It’s routine, by now, for Tater to come find him when he’s ready and climb into bed with Jack to watch TV, or Skype Bitty, or read. Once or twice they’ve fallen asleep curled up together. Jack always wakes warm and comfortable.

One night, in Phoenix, Jack goes to his hotel room after the game. He showers, reads, and watches TV. And then he looks at the clock and realizes that it’s gotten late, so late that it’s nearly time for him to sleep, and Tater still hasn’t come by. Tater always comes by, even if it’s to say that he’s tired and wants to rest by himself that night. For all that Tater is loud and boisterous, he is profoundly perceptive. He has easily attuned himself to Jack’s little anxiety quirks, most notably how much Jack craves ritual and routine.

If Tater has not come by, that means he’s either fallen asleep, forgotten, or something is wrong.

Their game that day hadn’t been their worst, but it hadn’t been their best, either. They’d managed a narrow win in overtime. Most of the game had been spent scrambling after the puck. After three straight months of hockey and travel and little else, they were all getting worn down and making more mistakes. Tater and Thirdy had even collided at one point, both hitting the ice hard. A gif of that embarrassing moment was already trending on hockey Twitter.

Jack arrives at Tater’s door and gives a quiet knock. He doesn’t want to wake Tater, if Tater is just asleep.

But he hears a soft grunt from inside, and then footsteps, and then the click of the door handle.

Tater is in his boxers and a sweatshirt. His hair is mussed, like he’s been running his fingers through it, and most of the lights in his hotel room are off. When he smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his brown eyes.

“Zimmboni,” Tater says. “I’m sorry, I—I’m forget, I’m not come by.”

“That’s okay,” Jack replies. “I thought maybe you’d gone to sleep.”

“No, I’m not sleep.” Tater ruffles his own hair, messing it up even further. “I’m supposed Skype Kenny, but—he’s become busy with something.”

“An interview, I think. They’re probably running late.” Jack tilts his head and asks, “Do you want me to sit with you? Keep you company until Kent calls?”

Here, Jack sees Tater hesitate. He understands why; Tater is feeling vulnerable. Early in their friendship, Jack had made the surprising discovery that Tater is in fact a very private person. Despite being open and gregarious in day to day life, Tater is rarely forthcoming with private or personal matters. Things that matter to him deeply—things that could, in turn, cut him deeply if too readily shared—are kept carefully locked away. Jack has found that the best way to help Tater open up is to simply give him opportunities to talk, and wait to see what Tater feels like saying.

Jack smiles encouragingly. Tater smiles back and says, “Yes. I like that very much.”

Inside the hotel room, Tater’s bed is unmade and his TV is turned on but muted. There’s only a desk lamp on. Jack sees a book in Russian on the bedside table but it doesn’t look like Tater has been reading. Judging by the way Tater climbs onto the bed and lies down in a small nest of sheets, what Tater has been _doing_ these last few hours is just sitting or lying in silence.

Jack’s heart aches with sympathy. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, but he does know that Tater shouldn’t be wallowing in it alone. He gets onto the bed behind Tater and spoons him, placing himself a little higher on the bed so he can tuck his chin over the top of Tater’s head while wrapping an arm around him.

“Tell me if this isn’t okay,” he says quietly.

Tater shakes his head and places a hand over the one Jack has resting on his stomach. “Is very okay.”

“Good.” Jack closes his eyes.

He doesn’t expect Tater to talk about what’s bothering him. ‘What’ and ‘Why’ aren’t as important as ‘I’m here,’ and ‘You’re not alone.’

But after a while, Tater does talk.

“Wasn’t good game,” he says roughly, out of the blue.

Jack hums to show he’s listening.

“I’m not play best. Trip Thirdy, start fights, yell at ref.”

Jack nods. “I think we all played less than our best today. God knows I’m better than how I played today.” Many of his passes hadn’t connected. Many of his shots had been taken too soon or too recklessly and had gone wide. He’d left the ice feeling disappointed with his performance. What had comforted him was the knowledge that his teammates felt the same about themselves. They were all thinking about the little ways they’d failed that day. It was reassuring to know that he wasn’t alone in his misery and self-doubt—to know that his feelings were shared, and normal.

Jack moves so he can use his free hand to stroke Tater’s hair. It’s something Bitty does to him when he’s feeling stressed and overwhelmed.

Tater mumbles, “Feel I’m let team down.”

Jack hugs him. “You didn’t. You didn’t play your best, sure. But you didn’t let us down. Today was a bad day, that’s all. You’ll do better next time. We all will.” He feels Tater take a deep breath and let it out, his body expanding and deflating in Jack’s embrace. Jack continues to finger-comb Tater’s hair. He even drops a kiss on Tater’s ear for good measure. “I can’t promise that things will look better in the morning, but I do know that a good night’s sleep makes it easier to get up and face the day. Kent will understand if you don’t wait up for him.”

Tater sighs. “Yes. You right.” He twists so he can meet Jack’s eyes. “Thank you, Zimmboni.”

“Any time. It’s like you told me, eh? You don’t have to be alone. You have me.”

Tater smiles—a real one, this time, and so warm. “I like have you very much.”

Jack smiles back, and on impulse, leans down to kiss him. Tater welcomes him with an open mouth and then his fingers in Jack’s hair.

They kiss, and kiss, and Jack realizes that they don’t seem to be stopping. He pulls back, searching Tater’s eyes.

 Tater’s hand slips down from his hair, cupping his jaw. “Jack? Okay?”

Jack thinks about all the talks he’s had with Bitty about exactly this, about Jack going further with Tater. He thinks about Kent’s reply to their joint Snapchat, _You’re so cute together_. He thinks about how it feels right now, to have Tater’s heat and solidity pressed against him, to see a blush rising in Tater’s cheeks and his dark eyes going darker.

He thinks about what it’d be like to shift a thigh between Tater’s. To push down and find out what sounds he makes.

“Very okay,” Jack says. It makes Tater chuckle, which in turn draws a soft laugh from Jack, and they’re both smiling when their mouths meet again.

Tater is warm. He feels good under Jack, but also surprising, because Jack has never had so _much_ of someone beneath him before. It’s novel. He finds he likes it. He likes how big Tater’s arm feels around his shoulders, how Tater can cup Jack’s entire cheek in one broad hand. He likes the cavern of Tater’s mouth, and the nubile tongue that lives inside.

He likes Tater’s hands on his shoulders and then running down his back. He likes the rough texture of Tater’s fingers slipping under his shirt and gliding up his spine.

Tater shuffles himself onto his back and yanks on Jack’s sweatpants until Jack climbs on top of him. They’re both hard, and it’s—it’s shocking, to feel something as raw and sexual as Tater’s hard cock rubbing against Jack’s. Tater has always been softness, warmth, and stillness, and now it’s like he’s changing under Jack’s very hands, becoming solidity, heat, and motion. Jack rolls against him and Tater moans into his mouth.

“I don’t have a condom,” Jack manages.

Tater laughs, breathless and rough. “Me, too. I’m not expect we do this.”

“Really?” Jack pulls back further to get a good look at him. “I always assumed we would, eventually.”

Tater shrugs. His fingers trace little circles around the knobs of Jack’s spine. “You’re say I’m cute, but. I’m not want assume.”

Jack takes stock of Tater laid out beneath him, flushed and dark-eyed, his mouth red from their kisses. Tater’s t-shirt sleeves are pushed up around his beefy arms, the power in them noticeable even when Tater is being gentle. Tater feels like a rock beneath Jack, hewn to perfection. He’s got a smile that makes Kent Parson swoon and an ass that would stop traffic.

Jack smiles. “You’re a lot more than just cute, Tater.”

Tater licks his lips. “Alexei. Maybe here, I am Alexei.”

“Alexei,” Jack repeats. It feels sexy and intimate. “I want to take your clothes off. Is that okay?”

“Very okay.  I want… touch you everywhere. Is that okay?”

Jack grins and leans in to kiss him. “More than okay.”

They let each other go just long enough to get undressed. Jack has felt Alexei’s dick before, through his clothes, but he’s never seen it like this, hard and in the open air. When they come back together, bare skin on bare skin, mouths hungry and hands all over, Jack thinks, _Kent has been here_. It’s a strange feeling. It’s like Kent fucking Bitty, but in reverse. Kent has put his hands and mouth on Jack’s territory. Now Jack is touching and kissing and softly moaning into skin that belongs to Kent.

It’s a strange feeling, but not a disconcerting one. It doesn’t distract Jack from the electric feeling of Alexei’s dick rubbing wet streaks into Jack’s hip. It doesn’t make him feel guilty about straddling Alexei’s thigh and rutting into it, or licking back into Alexei’s mouth, or groaning under his breath when Alexei puts two hands on Jack’s ass and _squeezes_.

They’re both trying to be quiet, because even if the Falconers are fine with Jack dating Bitty and Alexei dating Kent, trying to explain why Jack and Alexei are now dating each _other_ as well isn’t something Jack wants to tackle any time soon.

For now, he enjoys being here. He puts a knee to the bed and helps Alexei rub himself off on Jack’s leg, just like Jack is doing on him. He eats up the little sounds that Alexei makes, and delights in how hard Alexei’s heart is beating under his palm when he puts it to Alexei’s chest. He thrusts and pants and just feels. And when Alexei swears and whines something desperate in Russian, Jack doesn’t try to figure it out, he just whispers, “Yeah, yeah,” still moving, and then Alexei’s body is tensing, shaking, and coming hot and wet all up Jack’s thigh.

He doesn’t expect the hand that closes around his dick and starts to jerk him off, but he appreciates it. He ducks his face into Alexei’s neck and bites his lip around a low sound of satisfaction when he comes.

The room is quiet when they’re finished. Jack stays laying half on top of Alexei while they both catch their breath. Eventually, Alexei says, “We gross. I get towel.” Jack laughs and moves to let him up.

Alexei cleans them both. Then he digs out a fresh pair of boxers and pulls the Falcs t-shirt back on. Jack gets dressed, too. He’s deliberating whether to leave when Alexei pats the mattress and says, “Come back, I’m not kiss you enough.” So Jack lies down and snuggles close. This time, Alexei is the one to wrap his arms around Jack, stroking his hair and leaving gentle kisses all over his face.

“Thank you,” Alexei murmurs. “You good man, Jack. I so lucky, have you.” He hesitates, and then says in a near whisper, “Kenny is lucky, too.”

Jack is too tired to sort through the Rubik’s Cube that is his feelings about Kent. For now, he nods and replies, “I’m glad I could help.”

Tomorrow morning, Jack will get on a plane and use that time to work through everything in his head. In the afternoon, Jack will arrive in L.A. and play a game against the Kings. In the evening, Jack will Skype Bitty, and they’ll talk about what it means that Jack has taken this next step with Alexei.

For now, Jack doesn’t try to stop his eyes from closing. He knows he should go, but Alexei isn’t pushing him away, and Jack wants to stay. He’s warm and sated. He feels safe. He feels happy. He feels loved.

Alexei reaches for the bed sheets and covers them both. “Jack? Okay?”

Jack closes his eyes and smiles. “Yes. More than okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> join me in the trash heap on [tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/).


End file.
